Legends Don't Die Easy- Part II
by Nothing Really Specific
Summary: This is on what I think the 2011 film by DreamWorks should have been about. The was requested by an anonymous guest reviewer who said, "Ohh i love it! Can you please make some more? I cant even wait!" Your wait is over. Sequel to "Legends Don't Die Easy" (another one shot). Thinking about making this a full fledged story. Suggestions/Reviews are welcome.


_Legends Don't Die Easy- Part II_

The gunfire drew closer. Puss was still in the middle of the street. His sword dripping with blood and his fallen comrade in the dirt. Shouting. Screaming. Innocent Angels of War were falling to the knees of crafty belligerent devils. Nationalists were moving up the street, carrying with them wave after wave of torch, bullet, and death that never seemed to end.

The cat looked up and saw the advancing line, he smiled, _"All the King's Horses."_ he thought as he, the sole line of defense for the weak charged into doom. Dodging bullets left and right, Puss slowly impaled, decapitated and slaughtered violently and without remorse the Nationalistic regime, but he was not an invincible, unstoppable machine. A bullet grazed his back, he staggered and fell to his knees, but his adrenaline and hormones masked the pain with aggression and malice. The soldier who shot him stood over him like an executioner. He raised his weapon, a standard military issue Mosin Nagant M91/30 7.62x53 mmR carbine rifle. Puss only had a steel sword, an outdated, useless weapon against the superiority of the Spaniard before him. So, as if in last words the cat did what he was famous for, removed his hat and gave those big, soft kitten eyes. "Nice try!" The Spaniard said. Puss continued with the face and purred slowly, playing the innocent and sympathy card at the same time. "It's not going to work!" Puss stopped with the face. "Oh fuck it." He said and stabbed the Spaniard in the knee, forcing him to drop his gun which fired off anyway. The bullet grazed Puss' shoulder. He hissed in pain and staggered away in the confusion.

He walked back towards the bar, three gentlemen, armed to the teeth with their guns and superior weaponry exited. "Well," the middle one, whose name was Fernando said, "it's Senor Gato." The one on Fernando's left, Santiago, held a Spanish hunting bolt action rifle, issued in 1928, still in working condition. It was a fine weapon for shooting cats. Santiago aimed his weapon. "Adios Senor Puss." He said. The cat just stood there, he didn't move, he didn't even try to put on a face. It was a blank, bored, badass expression. "Do you not fear death?" Santiago asked. The cat shrugged, and walked away casually, when he was ten feet away he turned around and smiled slyly. "What is there to fear senor?" Puss walked out of the city.

The cat walked into the Spanish countryside. The crickets, the frogs, and the birds who could not communicate with him were completely oblivious to the world around him. As Puss would later write:

_La noche era fría y despiadada. El viento me habló, suave susurro en mi oído, "El mundo ha llegado a su fin, nuestros espíritus están muriendo guardar nosotros, por favor." no puedo pasar por alto sus gritos. Muerte inocente, capas de malicia. Todas estas cosas de la tierra. Lo vi en las ciudades, las caras de las personas. Las palabras no pueden describir el terror, el miedo, la masa excomunión. Tuve que llegar a Barcelona. Ese era el objetivo, que era mi camino. Mi angustia. Ruego a Dios que nunca lo experimentan. La única palabra que puede describir mis sentimientos ahora es una palabra que significa el estado de espíritu, el alma no corregible: la angustia. Mi dulce intimidad._

The night was cold and unforgiving. The wind spoke to me, softly whispering in my ear, "The world has come to an end, our spirits are dying save us please." I could not ignore their cries. Innocent death, cloaks of malice. All of these things covered the earth. I saw it in the towns, the people's faces. Words cannot describe the terror, the fear, the mass excommunication. I had to get to Barcelona. That was goal, that was my journey. My heartbreak. I pray that you never experience it. The one word that can describe my feelings right now is a word that means the broken state of spirit, the unfixable soul: anguish. My sweet seclusion.

Puss entered the city, he walked to the docks. The smell of fish was tempting but he knew that he had to stay on course. The information that Tilden showed him was still fresh in his mind. "With that kind of knowledge," Puss said to himself, "if one were to ignore it, then he would be just as evil as the Nationalists." Standing at the edge of the dock, two Spaniards, Nationalists, who were smoking cigars, talked about the future of Spain. "Francisco Franco," one of them said, "now there's a leader to die for!"

"Si senor!" His friend said taking a drag of his cigar, the lit up ash and smoke were the only thing visible in the night. "So, these weapons, we're taking them to Marsailles tonight and then what?"

"Keep it down, do you want people to hear you!" The amputation of a knee. The Spaniard who wasn't severed looked over and saw Puss, standing in front of the one legged Spaniard, who was so caught off guard and off balance that he fell into the water, choking on his cigar all the way down to the bottom of the sea. "W-w-what do you want?" The Spaniard asked.

"The weapons you spoke of, where are they?" Puss said, aiming his sword at the man's torso. "What makes you think I'll tell you a damn thing?" The Spaniard said, trying to provoke the cat into backing off or not killing him. Puss stabbed him in the gut, twisting his blade counterclockwise, destroying the man's inner working. He pulled out his blade, his small intestine wrapped out the blade like a vine on a tree. Puss placed his boot on the Spaniard, kicking him off the dock, releasing his blade of the small intestine, which fell, detached from the body onto the dock. Puss then walked away his boots echoing a death chant to all who oppose humanity. As he would later write:

_Para los que creen que pueden destruir a la humanidad el alma por lo que el terror y el miedo en los corazones de los hombres. Usted ni siquiera ha comenzado a ver el terror, y ni siquiera sabes miedo. Me gustaría presentarles a ellos._

_To those who think that can destroy humanity's soul by bringing terror and fear into the hearts of men. You haven't even begun to see terror, and you don't even know fear. Let me introduce you to them._


End file.
